we'll be lacing the same shoes (forevermore)
by renee walker
Summary: The luxurious town of Weschester holds an abundance of elite families, raised to be perfect. The Westchester Dance Studio holds an abundance of refined prodigies, trained to look flawless. / These people have all the pawns and cards in the palms of their hands. Better save your dignity before they take that too and crush it beneath their designer shoes. Dance-AU
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: The Clique and everything about it belongs to Lisi Harrison.**

* * *

Welcome to the Westchester Dance Studio, also known as WDS, known for it's high-profile, competitive nature and elitist, advanced dancers. It's one of the best studios in the state of New York, ranked one of the top ten studios in America, producing great dancers who move on to the biggest dance companies worldwide decade after decade.

There are three age groups and five elite teams: Junior (Silversteppers and Blue Dancers - gender divided), Intermediate (Pretty Committee and Can't Stop the Beat - gender divded) and Senior (A-List Team, or Advanced List Team - co-ed).

WDS is split between two types of people: the ones who dance for fun and the ones who dance for their life. In the world of fine arts, it's clear to see who really matters.

* * *

 _The A-List:_ Westchester Dance Studio's senior co-ed and most hardcore elite dance group. Their dancers are made of old-money, honed muscle and flawless technique. Meet the best dancers on the team.

 **Massie Block:** The best ballerina in the entire studio and appointed Dance Co-Captain of A-List, Massie's prim, precise and perfect as well as cutthroat and merciless. Her father's a huge businessman and her mother a socialite with connections and business investments herself. She's spent a year in England the year before last, back in Intermediate, training in an elite studio overseas. Massie's got fantastic style, wealth, skill and friends on her side. She's got power and persuasion, retorts that will burn someone to the ground and a gold glare that'll make lesser humans cry. She's not happy about being co-captain and she's willing to prove herself as the real leader of the team.

 **Alicia Rivera:** Absolutely stunning in both looks and skill, this contemporary dancer earned her place both on A-List and as Massie's best friend. She dabbles in salsa, jazz and tap and adores hair flips. She's sweet as the devil and looks like perfection sent from heaven, she's the instigator with the latest iPhone in hand and known as one of the best dancers from years of high-level training. After signing up for a duet-workshop and being paired with fellow A-Lister **Josh Hotz** , her life can't seem to get better… Until she finds out her ex-friend **Olivia Ryan** went off to their rival studio BADS and might have stolen her and Josh's routine for Regionals.

 **Kristen Gregory:** Kristen's lean physique isn't due only to years of dance, but also years of soccer. Her acro-dancing is smooth, easy grace - like on the soccer field but with more style. She's the overall genius with a silver tongue; the mastermind working overdrive behind the scenes to work on choreography with the others. The one who's dad owns WDS and who's mom was a prima ballerina in the New York Ballet Company and is a current talent scout for her former company. Kristen's got the brains, brawn and blonde beauty, the skill and passion. But after an intense year of having to juggle advanced soccer, dance and school - can she do it again?

 **Dylan Marvil:** One may recognize her first because of her surname (her mom being the TV host of The Daily Grind) and second because of her status as one of the best dancers at WDS. Dylan's a hip hop girl, time-of-your-life fun and side-splitting, laughs-for-days hilarious. Her signature fiery curls represent her temper, her dancing is passionate and she knows she's got talent - but does she look the part of an A-List dancer? Constantly comparing her body to her that of her friends, Dylan's extremely insecure about herself and her size-or-two larger body type. Can **Chris Plovert** help her love herself or will her insecurities affect her concentration?

 **Claire Lyons:** Claire, the sweet jazz dancer, might have moved into Westchester, NY from Orlando, Florida knowing only jazz and just a bit of contemporary four years ago, but she learned quick. Quick enough to work her way steadily into the cream of the crop, the ranks of the most elite, and earn herself a spot. She can hardly believe the life she's living: great friends, great studio, great training. In Orlando, she knew she was lucky to have a roof over her head and food on her plate. In Westchester, she's grateful for that and for the so much more she has now. However, she doesn't have **Cam Fisher** , her ex-boyfriend of two years and doesn't know if she can continue to dance on the same team as him when he's beginning to send her mixed signals.

 **Derrick Harrington:** Shaggy blond hair and puppy-dog chocolate brown eyes, Derrick, also known as "Derrington" by most of the girls, is a breakdancer, hip hop dancer and soccer player. He's got lightning feet and tricks for days. He's also been named Dance Co-Captain of the A-List and, like the confident king he is, knows he deserves it and that he'll lead the team to victory. Derrick loves a good joke, a chill time and winning but his wicked tongue gets sharper when **Massie Block** begins getting on his nerves. He needs to keep a cool, level head to be Co-Captain - but he had a temper as fierce as **Dylan Marvil's** and a competitive spirit that refuses to back down.

 **Cameron Fisher:** Cam has one blue eye, one green eye, a dimpled smile and the heart of half the girls in the studio. He's a hip hop dancer and soccer player like his best friend, Derrick, but he prefers to go with the flow and use less acro tricks. He's sweet, funny and loves candy and music. Cam prefers not to get tangled up in too much drama, he's in A-List for the dancing and genuine fun, not to have a front row seat to an IRL Gossip Girl marathon. Regardless, he's basically Derrick's partner in crime and best bro, and that makes him the second-in-command and eye of the spotlight. But there's only so long you can hide your dark secrets from the light and his slow interest gain in **Claire Lyons** might become a bit obvious. Does little Cammie have a crush?

 **Joshua Hotz:** Josh Hotz is even hotter than his last name implies. He's basically the male version of **Alicia Rivera** \- dark curls, olive complexion, flawless features, toned body. He's a contemporary dancer and soccer player as well, graceless and lean and cutting an impressive figure on the dance floor. He loves to joke around, pulling pranks and laughing and is forever with an easy smile on his face. He moved to Westchester a mere three years ago and was accepted into the elite circle immediately, earning himself a rank in the top five athletes within a matter of a few weeks. After signing up for a duet-workshop, he finds himself falling fast for a girl on the dance floor who's salsa hips are almost as almost as entrancing as her personality.

 **Kemp Hurley:** Kemp is a skilled athlete: hip hop dancer (he leans towards animation, popping and locking and turned the "robot" dance move from "hell no" to "hotter than hell") and soccer player. He's also skilled in the dating area as he's the biggest player in the studio. He's a cockier, cruder version of Derrick. Kemp knows he's attractive, with brunet curls, hazel eyes and a toned body, and he owns it, using his attractiveness to its fullest potential. However, his melt-worthy, husky-voiced eloquent persuasion doesn't transfer into grades and when his marks get dangerously low, he's forced to get a tutor. Clashing headfirst with **Kristen Gregory** every other night instead of partying isn't exactly how he thought his year would go.

 **Christopher Plovert:** Chris is the best male ballet danced in WDS and no one forgets it. Instead of being stereotypically mocked for his tights and pointed feet, he's praised and looked up to. Even **Kemp Hurley** , the proudest and most arrogant of them all, is impressed with his focus, dedication and hard work. Chris is also a defensive soccer player, has denim eyes and dirty blond hair and wears prescription contacts. He's intelligent and strategic, calculating and with a drier humor than his female equivalent **Kristen Gregory**. He's an overachiever and it's never enough to place second. However, his studious seriousness makes him seriously lack social skills outside of his guy group and he struggles to express himself to the girl he likes.

* * *

 _So this is my first story on here! I've been apart of the Clique fandom for a while and I love the characters. I think it's a really cool twist to see how the wealthy elitists, usually the antagonists, get turned into protagonists and the true friendship behind popularity - how the Clique girls rose to "the top" because of their friendship and were admired for more than their appearances, but because of their tight bond._

 _Now, for some background information: this is an AU and because of this, some things may not be canon but some will be. The PC and the Briarwood Boys are all sixteen and characters around them fall in the timeline accordingly. They all attend the Academy of Westchester County and Skye Hamilton (dancer at the Body Alive Dance Studio/BADS) is the senior alpha there. The junior and intermediate elite teams at WDS are divided by gender (Silversteppers for girls, Blue Dancers for boys and Pretty Committee - see what I did there? Haha - for the girls and Can't Stop the Beat for the boys.) Kristen and Claire are both old-money and upper-class instead of middle-class. Westchester is an incredibly old-money, wealthy town because that sort of lifestyle is interesting to write and manipulate._

 _I've already got the first official chapter written so leave your thoughts in the comments! Hope you enjoyed! (P.S. Does anyone recognize the title? It's a Halsey lyric with a Troye Sivan twist)._


	2. One

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Clique series and it's characters - Lisi Harrison, however, does.**

* * *

 _I never miss a beat, I'm lightning on my feet_

* * *

 **WESTCHESTER DANCE STUDIO**

 **A-LIST PRACTICE ROOM**

 **Saturday; September 1**

 **5:49 P.M.**

 **MASSIE** strutted into the A-List practice room, her bare feet brushing the glossy wooden floor and Bloch toe shoes in hand. She set her shoes in the corner and looked around at the empty room, satisfied. She was always at least ten minutes early to practice and she loved being the first one in the room.

Her amber eyes caught her own in the mirrored wall and she moved forward with casual grace, scanning over herself. Glossy chestnut hair going into a blonde ombré, pulled back from her delicately featured face in a sleek high ponytail; amber eyes enhanced with waterproof mascara on her lashes; lithe, lean body suited in a black tank leotard and purple Capezio dance shorts. She looked great and, after a fantastic day, she felt even better.

Massie moved over the barre on the wall opposite and began methodically warming up. She loved to dance, moving to the music, hitting every turn and jump, the attention and applause, and letting the background sound fill her ears. The silence, on the other hand, could be soothing and kind, relaxing, as she let whatever tension she held leak out of her.

In must have been not five minutes after she began when her solidarity was intruded upon.

"Mass?" Alicia asked, strolling in slowly, her feet not quite silent. Massie lifted her eyes and upper body, pulling away from where one of her long legs was propped on the barre and setting both feet on the floor.

"Hey, Leesh," the brunette smiled. Alicia grinned back, her teeth white and perfect between full ruby lips, and leaned in for a hug, smelling potently of spicy chocolate perfume and coconut body butter. "Is that a new sports bra?" Massie asked when she pulled away. Her eyes flicked down to her friend's impressive bosom but was focused solely on the turquoise sports bra. Alicia nodded. The action made her dark curls bounce around her tan shoulders.

"Yeah, I got it from Victoria's Secret, like, last weekend. Isn't it cute?" Alicia smirked. She struck a pose, looking altogether like a model in the middle of a photoshoot with her tall, toned body. "Jealous?"

"You know I don't get jealous, Leesh. People are envious of me, not the other way around," Massie shot back coolly. She daintily arching one groomed brow. Alicia huffed a laugh, tossing back her head and padded over to the middle of the floor to begin stretching.

Within the next ten minutes, all members of A-List filed in from Derrick Harrington, the team co-captain who Massie greeted with pursed lips and a frosty glare, to Ally Rose Singer, a super tall and super flexible contemporary dancer.

"Okay," Massie said loudly, clapping her hands together as she took her place at the front of the room next to Derrick. "We're going to go over the choreo Derrick and I showed you yesterday." Without another word, she turned and moved towards where the sound system was set up to cue up the music. _Let's hope you can keep up_ hung in the air, unsaid but silently meaningful. Cam caught Derrick rolling his eyes in the mirror and shrugged at him.

The moment the music cued up, every dancer hit their position. Meghan Trainor's _Better When I'm Dancin'_ started up and the girls immediately went into piqué turns. Massie, Alicia and Claire all rolled to the floor, kicking their legs up behind them and rolling again. Behind them, Kristen, Dylan and Ally Rose were doing fouettés and the guys were doing footwork and turns. Their dance was mellow, a lot of turns and leaps. It was contemporary and jazz with a hint of ballet scissors and spins before it hit the chorus and the boys exploded in a series of handsprings and flips across the floor.

As soon as the music faded out at the end of the routine, Massie pulled away from their ending positions to frown at them critically.

"Your acro got sloppy, Kris," she informed Kristen. "Keep your body tighter when you pull your legs over your head. And Chris, can you join the girls when they fouetté? Dylan, take his place. Claire, you're leaping a split second behind and then rushing to make up for it. Fix that. And Derrick, were you _improvising_ when you were breakdancing at the chorus?"

Derrick cocked an eyebrow and nodded, smirking. "Yeah. It was cool, wasn't it?"

"You need to have consistency," Massie snapped coldly, ignoring the question. "Or else the group will get confused -"

"This is our second time doing this. We don't have consistency yet."

"We need to develop it early. Do you have a set routine?" Massie pressed, her voice cutting. She was using the sort of tone someone would use on an uncooperative child who had pulled the same petulant stunt yet again. Derrick recognized for what it was. A put-down meaning to show him as a fucking kid and he scowled at her, his cool satisfaction lost.

" _Yes_ , do you have a stick up your ass?" he mocked, squaring his shoulders to tower over the ballerina.

Massie's eyes blazed with suppressed fury, losing her composure in the way only fighting with Derrick could make her do. "Excuse me? I can't understand what you're saying - I don't speak _Stupid_ , sorry."

A phlegmy throat-clearing interrupted their spat and both captains spun to see their instructor, Madame Bonner, standing behind the group looking distinctly unimpressed. "Is this what you're doing with your time?" she asked coldly. "Putting on a theatrical act for your team when you're supposed to be practicing?"

The rest of the A-List didn't look away uncomfortably, but met their captains' gazes with subtle shrugs and nods. Chris gave Derrick A Look which indicated that, however amusing this was, they all knew they should be practicing.

"It's been five minutes," Chris said in lieu of full reprimand. "Come on, let's just continue." He looked at Cam, who didn't meet his eyes, and instead reached out to Derrick, clasping his shoulder. The blond was still scowling, but kept his mouth shut and settled for trying to throw fire at Massie with his eyes.

The slim brunette ignored him, did a few seconds of deep breathing ( _in...two-three-four, out...two-three-four_ ) and then refocused. "Right."

Madame Bonner clapped her hands twice, the sound sharp and echoing in the practice room. " _Bien_. Now, focus. Go back to the routine. And Derrick, use that solo you have prepared." Massie smirked at him and Derrick's scowl deepened. Cam's callused fingers gripped a bit tighter and the blond captain kept his mouth shut. "Massie, this is _team_ , not an army. Speak to them and with them, don't just snap at them."

That's enough to get Derrick's scowl to melt into a satisfied sneer at seeing his co-captain get put in her place. Massie glared daggers at him, but nodded and got into position.

* * *

After getting their butts kicked by their instructor and finishing off the intense practice alone with a relentless work ethic, they said their goodbyes and peeled off in the directions of their changing rooms.

The girls' eyed their leader's tense shoulders and silently decided to chatter mindlessly while waiting it out. As they showered, the coil of Massie's muscles loosened and her voice noticeably perked up.

"Did you see the flyer for the duet workshop that's running next week?" Alicia chirped, coming out of her shower stall in a fluffy white towel, grabbing her clothes and retreating back in.

"I saw it," Massie replied from her own stall, layering a teal silk racerback tank over her white Calvin Klein sports bra. "I ignored it."

"I signed up for it," Alicia shrugged, tugging on her PINK yoga pants. "I think Landon might be doing it to."

"Landon," Massie repeated flatly, controlling the curiosity in her voice. Landon Crane, a contemporary dancer in the grade above them, was her friend since ninth grade. They almost became A Thing, but then she left for England and they decided they were both too young to wait a year. They remained friends and she loved him like a brother. He could've easily made it on to A-List, but dismissed the chance since serious competition wasn't his thing. "Did you happen to sign up just for the chance of dancing with him?"

"Way to not let feelings interfere with performance," Dylan snorted. In the privacy of her stall, she pinched the fat of her waist, trying to see if her body had lost weight with all the dancing she'd been doing after over a month of summer lounging in Bora Bora. "What if you get stuck with some dorky LBR like Pierce Finnegan?" She scrunched her freckled nose at the thought of Pierce, who was dorky, had too-long limbs and a too short body and acted like a twelve-year-old with all the lame dirty jokes he made.

Alicia gasped. "Ehmagawd, no way would the instructors try to pull someone of my caliber down to that shit's level," she said, placing a Chanel-polished hand over her heart. She sounded incredibly affronted, like Dylan had wondered if Alicia was going to be _twinning_ with someone at the next charity event.

Kristen was the first to emerge from her shower stall and her signature phlegmy laugh echoed in the room. Claire was out just after her and caught the sight of the athlete laughing - golden head thrown back, dressed in a pink hoodie-like Stanley cardigan and soccer shorts. She was tall, tanned and stunning and Claire, despite her lack of care for insecurity and knowledge that she was toned, immediately felt a spike of self-consciousness.

"Wouldn't it help him to be dance with you? With your extensive knowledge in the fields he lacks?" Kristen cackled. Alicia emerged, adjusting the fall of her purple Sadie Scoop-Back Pullover and throwing her towel in the laundry bin with a scowl. Before she could reply, Dylan strolled out, wild curls damp and subdued with water.

"'Extensive knowledge in fields he lacks,'" Dylan repeated, snickering. "Are we still talking about dance here?"

" _Given!_ " Alicia barked, her cheeks flushing at the thought of her and an _LBR_ together. "Gross, like I would ever even touch him, much less let him touch me. His dancing is atrocious, he can't even do a pirouette."

Massie sighed, the last to come out from her stall, and she surveyed the scene - three of them practically vibrating with suppressed laughter, one of them snapping and groaning, a cloud of steam hanging in the air and hair product scents potent - with impassiveness. "Leesh, Dyl, you're both being so immature. The word you're looking for is penis. He has a lack of knowledge with penises since he doesn't have one."

"And Alicia does?" Claire felt the need to ask. Alicia shot her a glare and then Claire _got it._ "Oh. Um."

Massie's mouth turned up at the corner. "No, but she does have experience with them, thus she has knowledge."

"Ehma _gawd_ ," Alicia groaned, tossing back her long mane of hair and marching out into the change room to dry her hair. The other girls had long since cleared out since their group preferred to shower last for maximum privacy unless one was in a hurry. "Kristen's had a thing with Kemp last year. _Kemp Hurley_. Ultimate player, pervert and the biggest asshole in the school and studio. She didn't get nearly as much flack."

The soccer player's cheeks went pink. "One night stand," she shouted over the hum of the Revlon blow-dryer, towel-drying her own hair. Alicia grinned widely at her and batted her long eyelashes in fake innocence. Claire hid a giggle behind the sweaty palm of her hand. Massie rolled her eyes and plugged in her own hairdryer. Alicia wasn't even trying to hide her gleefulness at Kristen's embarrassment and the dark-haired beauty could pull off "innocent role model" like a perfect angel while still high-key acting like the devil.

* * *

 **THE WESTCHESTER MALL**

 **STARBUCKS**

 **Sunday; September 2**

 **10:42 A.M.**

 **AFTER** a grueling seven AM, two-hour study session, the girls went off for a Double-S Day, also known as Shopping and Spa Day, at Westchester Mall. And because Claire low-key thought the universe wanted someone to die, they ran into the A-List guys at Starbucks.

Alicia and Claire were leaning over their orders, taking pictures for Snapchat and Instagram, respectively. Dylan was tapping her foot, draped over the chair not even a metre away, muttering impatiently about food. Kristen was deep in discussion with Massie about AP classes when one of the Starbucks workers called out, "Derrick? Iced Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha? For Derrick?"

Massie's eyes narrowed and her gaze subtly shifted from one athletic blonde to the next, focussing on Derrick's broad shoulders and jaunty step as he took the drink with a wide grin and nod in lieu of thank you. Then Massie turned back to Kristen and asked her firmly, "How was working at Urth in California over the summer?"

Kristen raised both eyebrows, but played along. Alicia refocused on her photography, also ignoring the guys, while Claire and Dylan watched discreetly as, one by one, the guys went up to the counter to grab their drinks. Cam ordered a Cinnamon Dolce Crème Frappuccino, Josh got a Cool Lime Refresher, Kemp received a Pike Place Roast and Chris had a Youthberry tea.

Chris caught Dylan's gaze as he was walking back towards his friends and sent her a friendly wave. The redhead responded to her old friend with a wide grin and that was all it took for the guys to amble over.

"Block."

"Harrington."

"Nice drinks," Dylan snickered, swiping her Java Chip Frappuccino off the table and taking a sip. "Derrick, Cam, that's very heavy stuff you're drinking there." She nodded at their whipped cream-topped drinks. "And Josh, Alicia just _adores_ the Cool Lime too."

Kemp snorted. "Told you guys that your masculinity would be lost." He elbowed Chris, who didn't even flinch, in the ribs with a smirk.

"We're refusing to conform to gender roles and stereotypes," Chris said blandly, hitching an eyebrow. "We're being true to ourselves. Creating equality to reform expectations and double standards between men and women."

"By buying Starbucks?" Alicia asked, tilting her head so her curls purposefully tumbled over the shoulder of her white Elle Tahari Diondra Floral Lace blouse.

"It's the everyday things that matter the most. You can change the big picture but it doesn't matter if no one follows it. It's what's common that makes it the 'norm' of society."

"Can five boys really make a difference though?" Kristen interjected, eyes glinting. She leaned forward slightly. "Can you really change society's constructed way of thinking when you play and are a miniscule part in and of it?"

"We can influence people," Chris countered. "I -"

"Somehow," Massie drawled, eyes sharp and tone biting despite her apathetic expression. "I doubt you came here to debate about stereotypes and gender roles. What do you want?"

"To say hi to you lovely ladies, of course," Kemp said, leering at them. Every one of the girls glared harshly at him, save for Claire, who ducked her head uncomfortably. When she was with Cam, Kemp had been lewd but he hadn't checked her out like he was doing to the group now. She still wasn't used to it.

Josh shoved Kemp with his shoulder. "We just wanted to say hi," he said. "That's all."

"Really," Massie said, her voice droll but the way she spoke was clipped. She stood up, grabbing her usual tall skinny vanilla latte - no whipped cream. "Goodbye now, then."

It wasn't one of her infamous one-liners, but Claire could still tell it was a cold burn. "Mass," she pleaded, glancing at their food. Kristen's strawberry and blueberry yogurt parfait. Dylan's sausage, egg and cheese on an English muffin. Claire's own cinnamon-raisin bagel. Their bunch, _w_ _ell-deserved_ brunch at that. "We just got here. Can't we eat?"

Massie's face was a stony and Claire reached out to touch her shoulder, trying to calm her flaring temper. "I know you want to get on with shopping before we have to go to the spa, but we can fit in plenty of shopping time before it's spa-time." It was an entirely fabricated excuse. Massie wasn't in any rush to go shopping, none of them were, but she didn't want to be rude to the boys.

"Don't leave on our accounts," Cam said, sounding and looking uncomfortable. Josh was watching the exchange with riveted eyes and Kemp was standing at Derrick's shoulder, like a soldier waiting for the command to fire. "We're just going anyway." He took a step back and this time, it was Derrick who had a hand on his shoulder, drawing his bro to his side and Kemp reached out, clapping him heavily on the back.

Even after their messy breakup and the uneasy feeling she felt around her ex since their fallout had caused many others, Claire's heart twisted in her chest. Josh was known to be one of the sweetest out of the group, but something about Cam was nice and warm and to see him stiff and tense… She darted a look over to Massie, whose eyes had softened the tiniest bit.

"Back off," Derrick warned and Massie's eyes hardened faster than quick-dry nail polish. Josh jumped and Chris took a step back, shoving gently at Kemp's shoulder to get him moving. "Let's head out, guys."

Massie stood the entire time, not saying anything, just staring daggers at their back as they turned around and disappeared into the mall.

"That was intense," Dylan stated bluntly, biting into her food. Kristen licked her spoon clean before dipping it back into her yogurt parfait and Claire shifted uncomfortably.

Massie turned and gave them a baleful look. "Don't tell anyone," she said as she cast a look at Alicia, who shrugged simply, "but if anyone begins talking, slant the conversation in our favor."

"Like I wouldn't." The dark-haired beauty looked affronted and pursed her MAC-stained lips. "Honestly, I'm offended, Mass." Her petulant tone was enough to startle a laugh out of their alpha and Alicia's offended expression cracked immediately, warmth flooding her own laughter.

If they were in private, Massie would have been easy going and warm, her face soft and tone light. She would have relaxed immediately. In public, she was intimidating and coiffed as she was now, a distant perfection that was right in front of your face. Now, she straightened herself, sliding back into her armchair.

"Kris," Dylan said, kicking Kristen in the calf. The blonde looked over, not even fazed and the redhead pulled a silly face. "Do you remember the time in Cali when we ran into Bethany Mota?"

"Ehmagawd, yes!" Kristen's face lit up. "I still have a bunch of pictures from it."

"I love her Aeropostale collection," Claire admitted. She enjoyed shopping at "cheap" stores, as her friends called them, like Old Navy (which had super soft sweaters) and Aeropostale. Free People and Urban Outfitters barely made the acceptable cut. "It's super cute."

Massie leveled her a flat look at her admission but the pale blonde only shrugged, having no other words to defend herself with, and took a bite of her bagel.

"No fair," Alicia whined, pouting her full lips. Out of the corner of Claire's eye, she could see a cute boy by the window looking at the Spanish beauty, looking over her slowly and she felt a rush of protectiveness over her sexualized friend. "I wanna be in a vlog. Why was I not there?"

"We weren't in her vlog," Kristen corrected. "And you were in Spain shopping with your cousins while we were in SoCal."

"Damn," swore Alicia. "The adorable Euro guys were actually so worth it, though. I'd take that over meeting some Youtuber any day."

Dylan snorted. "Say that to Tyler Oakley. I dare you." She tossed her red curls back and fluttered her lashes - which were made enviably and noticeably thicker and longer by her eyelash-extensions. It was only two days after her last session and her eyelashes were still huge.

"Oh, I love watching his videos," Claire smiled, her face lighting up softly. "He's so funny and true and the colors he dyes his hair are pretty."

Kristen shrugged. "I prefer Aspyn Ovard or Eva Gutowski, TBH." She hooked one of her fingers on her custom-made Alex and Ani bangles, dragging it up her arm and tapping her gray Nike sneakers.

Massie rolled her eyes and half-smiled. "Finish your food," she instructed, settling back and crossing her legs daintily. "We have shopping to do and a spa appointment waiting."

* * *

 _Author's Note: I would like to thank the very sweet **guest reviewer** and **tammywammy9** for reviewing. Seeing your nice comments really made my day. I've had this second chapter written for a while and have just been waiting to see the reaction to the story - so now that this chapter is up, what did you think of it? I hope you liked it and would love it if you would review._


	3. Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Clique or anything about it, all rights belong to Lisi Harrison.**

* * *

 **RIVERA ESTATE**

 **DRIVEWAY**

 **Monday; September 3**

 **7:48 A.M.**

 **ALICIA** swung her hips in time to "Bubbly" by Colbie Caillat, bobbing her head as she leisurely strolled out to Massie's Range Rover.

 _"It starts at my toes_

 _And I crinkle my nose_

 _Wherever it goes, I always know"_

Mass could wait - they'd been using the same carpool schedule since they were twelve and Isaac always pulled up a little bit early because Alicia was always a little late.

"Get in, loser, we're going to school," Massie drawled as soon as Alicia was within earshot. Her tone was commanding, but her lips twitched and her eyes were bright. Alicia grinned as she pulled out her Apple earbuds, pushing them carelessly into her Louis Vuitton bag.

"Only if you have my coffee," Alicia teased back. She hopped up into the Range Rover, wiggling in her seat and stretching her long legs out in front of her. Her grin widened at the sight of her usual Starbucks order and she leaned back, sipping her caramel macchiato with relish. "Mm, you know me so well."

"What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't?" smirked Massie. Her lips pursed around the straw of her own drink, the quirky cocktail ring on her right hand glittering in the morning sunlight. "I know everything, anyway."

Alicia didn't disagree. It certainly seemed that way sometimes - like Massie just knew how to do things, how to handle things. "Point."

There was a beat of comfortable silence for a moment, the hum of the car the only sound, before Massie commented, "Open-toed shoes?"

"Shut up. They're cute." Alicia looked at her adorable peep-toe Jimmy Choo pumps and tossed her glossy man back. "And they're a thing in Spain."

"That's debatable and I also raise you the point that you're in America, thus should be following American trends." Massie arched an eyebrow and Alicia rolled her eyes.

"I am!" she protested, gesturing to the thick cloth choker twined around her throat. "But I'll bet you my silver Marc Cross Grace Small bag that Kristen's wearing an LA baseball cap." She smiled smugly, thinking about her precious pre-ordered bag because she knew it was going to her pride and joy when it arrived. Kristen would definitely be wearing the hat and Massie knew it too. It was just fun to tease.

Her friend cocked her head to the right ever-so-slightly as they pulled up at the Mantador. "The leather, cross-body one? That I've pre-ordered a blue version of?"

"Silver is better. More valuable." She grinned to take the edge off and leaned over Massie, towards the window on her side to see if Kristen was coming out of her luxe apartment.

"But gold is more stylish," Massie teased, her charm bracelet jingling as she gestured towards her Marni necklace. "And I don't need two Mark Cross bags. Especially when the blue one also doubles a box. Practical and adorable."

"It is?" Alicia's brow furrowed and her head snapped around to meet Massie's eyes. "That's...pretty genius," she said slowly, her mind coming up with possibilities. She ignored the sound of the car door opening. "Think about all the makeup you can store! Oh my God, you could basically bring your entire collection in that. Or your dance shoes."

"I was thinking more chic-briefcase style. Hey, Kris."

"What's going on?" Kristen asked behind her and Alicia smirked before yelping as she was shoved away from Massie. The alpha laughed, her eyes bright.

"Alicia was trying to molest me because she was in love with my pre-ordered Mark Cross bag."

"Briefcases are so out of style, this new trend is just so seducing," Alicia cooed before throwing an arm around Kristen's broad shoulders. "Hola, Kristen. Nice hat, by the way. Thought you were a Yankees fan."

Kristen rolled her eyes exaggeratedly at her and Alicia smirked. "Fashion doesn't always represent your ideals. I may be a Yankees fan but the LA Dodgers have cuter hats." The blue baseball cat, with "LA" in interlocked letters on it, was fitted neatly over her blonde head, her golden ponytail sticking out the back.

"Remember that heinous pink hat Josh gave you in, what, seventh grade?" Massie drawled and her eyes took on a sharper gleam this time. Alicia recognized it as what the girls had dubbed the "Torture Look" - used for fun or to truly torment someone. It was dreaded in both uses, but at least in the former use it involved a lot of laughter. Alicia just didn't like it when it was aimed at her, even though the attention was nice and it _could_ be funny.

"No," she lied. "No, I don't." She still had the cap, actually, just stuffed in a box at the back of her closet.

Kristen cackled. "I do!" she crowed. "Oh my God, it didn't match with anything you wore."

"Shut up. Remember that time we walked in on you and Kemp?" Alicia fired back and Kristen stopped laughing abruptly, her cheeks flushing for a different reason. "For a one night stand, a lot of things came from it."

"One night," Kristen said, the words old and familiar to all of them. "It was one night."

"We saw you in his shirt," she pointed out. "He was in his boxers. You guys were making out. It may have been worth over a hundred gossip points but it was weird."

"Not only that," Massie cut in, her voice monotone. Kristen tensed and Alicia wiggled in her seat - that voice meant Massie had a controversial point, was about to bring up something that could be taken a major way. "But you also missed your period the next month and thought you were pregnant. It wouldn't do to forget that, Kris." Alicia's eyes widened, they hadn't talked about that in ages, and her eyes shot to Massie's face, which was soft and kind in comparison to her cold words.

Regardless, both of them reached out towards Kristen, Alicia squeezing her shoulder and Massie holding her hand. The blonde nodded tightly and avoiding their eyes, bringing up her free hand to pull her hat down over her face. The two girls drew away from Kristen as the car swung open and Dylan tumbled in with a rush of glossy red curls and the smell of Clinique Happy perfume.

"Yo," she burped cheerfully, snatching up her frappuccino. "What's up?"

* * *

 **ACADEMY OF WESTCHESTER COUNTY**

 **CLASSROOM 3: AP ENGLISH**

 **Monday; September 3**

 **11: 21 A.M.**

They were reading _Life of Pi_ , not even on the third chapter, and the teacher walked around, asking students who hadn't handed in their last homework assignment "meaningful" questions about the novel.

Kristen sat up straight and struggled to stay focused. She had finished reading the third chapter already and completed that and the poetry assignments for that yesterday. She was ahead of the rest of the class and had actually nothing to learn right now.

Of course, the teacher knew that and sent Kristen a favorable smile every time she walked by her. She was done all her work and the few times the teacher had picked on her, she'd provided clear, thorough and well-thought answers she'd pre-prepared. Obviously she was going to be a favorite.

Kristen shot a glance at Massie, who was sitting up diligently and taking notes in her loopy writing. She guessed that within the next month Massie would drop the act of the ideal student. Her English mark surpassed Massie's, if only barely, but the alpha was very intelligent about things she wanted to be intelligent about, and Kristen let out a silent sigh, turning back to her completed notes.

"I want you to spend the rest of your time complete your chapter outline and summary," the teacher announced, strolling to the front of the class and sitting down. She hooked one wide-leg trouser-covered calf around the either as she sank down into the leather desk chair. "Have it done by tomorrow as well as your Charles Dickens analysis. Remember, it's on whichever poem by him that you choose."

This was a generous opportunity, as AP classes were hardcore, and a hefty amount of the time left in the period to complete an assignment like this wasn't rare, but rather uncommon. Kristen pressed her lips together and thought about finishing her AP Chemistry notes, but decided against it. She needed to clarify a few things with her Chem teacher before she could finish.

Instead, she leaned back in her seat and let her mind drift to Kemp. Kemp Hurley - Westchester's party life and resident teenage asshole. Kemp Hurley - one of the two guys Kristen had ever slept with. The first was Dempsey Solomon, six months ago when he took her virginity but then moved away and consequently they broke up. Kemp came in four months later, a month after their break up. It had been a one-night thing, fully consented to, but in the morning he'd asked her if she felt alright, if he had done anything wrong or hurt her accidentally and _was she okay?_ She was, he hadn't done a single thing out of line or hurtful and the entire experience had been pleasurable. They'd had smoothie bowls for breakfast, he knew how to make damn impressive ones, and she'd wandered around in his soft t-shirt and talked until their friends came barging in.

He'd been sweet right up until she flew to California to spend most of the summer. She might have had a small panic attack the day after she landed in Cali, but that was all cleared up within the next three days so there was that fact. The moment Kristen came back, he was his usual dirty, jerky self. It disgusted her and she refused to be in any vicinity nearby him. Kristen braided a section of her hair as she mulled it over. Did she regret sleeping with Kemp? Admittedly, no. Did she make the right choice in the end, once he'd returned to his asshole-tendencies? She was pretty sure.

So why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

Kristen envisioned him in her mind - all swaggering walk, broad shoulders, curls that fell into his eyes, his raspy stubble. She swallowed the feeling rising in her throat and kept her face cool as she glanced at Massie, who only cast her a knowing look in return as if she'd been broadcasted to Kristen's thoughts for the last five minutes.

 _'Don't slip up,'_ Massie mouthed. _'Don't show weakness here.'_ Her gaze was warning and knowledgeable. Kristen knew she was right, the students of AWC would tear her apart. The citizens of Westchester would tear her apart. There was no room for weakness in public.

She nodded once in response and cleared her mind of Kemp and his sparkling grin, turning her mind to AP French instead.

* * *

 **DOVE PARK**

 **Tuesday; September 4**

 **4:56 P.M.**

 **CLAIRE** settled herself on the ground, focused her camera and snapped a shot of a little girl's feet half-buried in the sand of the playground. The girl's babysitter either didn't notice or didn't care, continuing to browse through her phone and the little girl herself just wiggled her feet out of the sand and traipsed towards the slide.

Claire stood and brushed herself off. She adjusted the thick camera strap around her neck and checked her Burberry Britain stainless steel watch, she loved the blue color of the leather band, for the time. She had her technique class at WDS in under an hour and only a couple more pictures for Digital Photography to get. She looked around for more possible subjects and felt her stomach grumble.

 _Quick break time_ , Claire decided. She thought she deserved it, she had been at the park since the school bell rang and had been working to complete her "beginner's portfolio" as her teacher put it - where students collected a bunch of pictures at the beginning of the year and developed them to compare to their work at the end of the year. She hoped she would vastly improve by June. Now, however, Claire parked herself on one of the ornate benches in the park and dug into a plastic baggie full of yogurt-covered and chocolate-covered pretzels. They were delicious, Massie-approved and dancer diet-approved - the yogurt-covered ones were at least.

She missed her gummies. Gummy feet, Maynard fuzzy peaches and sour patch kids, sweet and sour gummy worms, Haribo gummy bears... She had a stash hidden at home, sure, but it wasn't the same as carrying around her own little bagful.

Claire tried to shove the nostalgic thoughts out of her mind - seeing Cam frequently after over a month away did that to her - and attempted to focus on the task at hand. That tree looked gorgeous with the white-sunlight spilling between it's leaves. She could work with that.

 _Baby this is what you came for_

 _Lightning strikes every time she moves_

Claire slapped the pocket of her Alexander Wang distressed boyfriend jeans and pulled out her Samsung Galaxy, recognizing Massie's personalized ringtone, to _This Is What You Came For_ by Calvin Harris and Rihanna, and accepted her call.

"Hello?"

"Kuh-Laire?" Massie asked, her voice clear and pronounced. In the background, Claire could faintly make out what sounded like a Taylor Swift song.

She nodded even though the brunette couldn't see her and settled back down on the bench. "Yeah. What's up?"

"Where are you? You totally ditched us after school." Massie didn't sound pissed, which was good. It more so sounded bemused, as if _oh yeah, you ditched us after school, that's a cute thing to pull_ , the tone pulling through in her smooth voice.

"Dove Park. Sorry, I had to come here for my photography assignment."

"Don't you have a technique class to go to?"

"I have half an hour until I have to leave." She hoped Massie would tell her what she needed so Claire could get back to working. That half an hour was ticking by quickly.

"Don't take the pictures then," Massie said easily and alarm shot through Claire like the time she had taken a sip of what she thought was only lemonade and turned out to be a cocktail of mostly beer _and a bit of_ lemonade.

"What? No, we're going to go to the dark room tomorrow, I need them now -"

Massie's voice was firm, cold and brooked no argument. "Claire. Stop and trust me. Go to your technique class and meet me at eight at my house. The girls will be there."

And then the line went dead and Claire sighed, pulling the phone away from her ear. There was always the option of taking the pictures anyway, obviously, but a quick glance at the clock told her she had ten minutes and very little inspiration. Fine. She was going to have to trust that Massie had this one.

It wasn't that Claire didn't trust her, she was her best friend, it was that the majority of Massie's projects made her nervous - they were complex and required a lot of thought as opposed to a simpler route.

Sighing, Claire shrugged and got into her sleek silver Mazda, dumping her camera bag in the passenger's seat and flicking on the radio to Calvin Harris and Rihanna's newest song. _Here's to trusting Mass._

* * *

 **BLOCK ESTATE**

 **MASSIE'S BEDROOM**

 **Tuesday; September 4**

 **8:07 P.M.**

Claire rushed into Massie's bedroom, an apology for her tardiness on the tip of her tongue, but stopped short at the sight in front of her.

It looked like the girls had begun using Massie's bedroom as a closet. Clothes folded in small, neat piles the lined the edge of the bed, jewelry and accessories and makeup laid out on the massive white desk, shoes lined up at the foot of her bed on top of the white carpet.

"You're late," Massie said disapprovingly and Claire's eyes snapped over to meet hers, watching them narrow and her long lashes flutter.

"Sorry," she muttered, ducking her head. Massie didn't cluck or shame her any further, but the meaningful lilt behind the two words and the coolness of her glare was reprimand enough. Alicia rolled her eyes and Dylan snickered at the side. "So, um, what's going on?" Kristen gave her a half-disbelieving look from where she was lacing her feet into a pair of gorgeous Manolo sandals. Claire shrugged in response and the athletic blonde sighed.

Massie just looked at her for a moment. "We're joining the military," she deadpanned, her voice flat, reaching on the doorknobs of her closet and pulling off two rompers dangling from hangers. "We're having a photoshoot for your little photography assignment, actually." The way she pronounced her words made it very clear that Claire was slow for not having caught on earlier and she flushed in response. "Now, choose one of these." Her thin, wiry arms extended out, displaying the two Alexis dresses.

One was a pink lace, open-backed and high-necked and the other was white and off-the-shoulder with black trim. Both were chic, pretty and unique - very Massie.

"The white one," Alicia said decisively, exchanging her fabric choker for a gold Alexis Bittar one. "The sunset will flush it different colors, it'll look so cute. The pink one is really adorable though."

"I second that," Kristen agreed. "Super cute."

Dylan burped, "Thirded," and everyone burst out cackling.

"That's rank," Massie snorted when the laughter died down. She was wrinkling her nose, but her tone was light. "Get out of here."

"Get wrecked," Dylan grinned, shaking out her curls as Massie turned back to face Claire, an eyebrow hiking up in silent question.

"White," Claire said quickly. "I agree with the others. White."

"That's what I thought," Massie said. She sounded smug and assured, probably since the girls had confirmed her opinion unanimously, and turned to hang the lace romper up. "I'm going to change," she announced. "Make yourself useful, girls." Without a look back, she swept into her walk-in-closet, the door shutting firmly behind her.

Dylan shook her curls out and stood, standing tall and beautiful in her navy Dior jumpsuit that popped against pale, pale skin. "Ugh," she groaned, poking at her stomach. "I'm so fucking pale. I'm pale _and_ fat -"

"You're nawt fat," Alicia snapped, twisting to glare at her as Kristen towered over her. The blonde was braiding Alicia's hair and humming in agreement. She adjusted Alicia's head so that she could continue. "Honestly, Dyl." Claire privately agreed with her - Dylan was gorgeous and curvy, with a beautiful hourglass figure. She had a few more pounds than the other girls, sure, but she certainly wasn't fat.

"I'm so pale and fat," continued Dylan, ignoring her. "That I'm basically Frosty the Snowman." Claire couldn't help the laugh that was startled out of her and Kristen gave a very unladylike snort while Alicia giggled behind her manicured hand.

"Okay, well that's not true," Kristen contradicted, a small smile at her lips. "For one, it's entirely unrealistic. Two, nice metaphor. Three, you're not fat. Four, even if you were fat, that doesn't mean you wouldn't be unhappy. Being fat and being unhappy aren't synonyms."

"They are if you're obese and unhealthy," Dylan argued, ignoring the rest of Kristen's arguments. She sounded playful, but her eyes were stressed. She obviously didn't want to be unhealthy or obese, Claire realized, and it was hard to live up to the flawless images of the rest of the girls. She remembered distinctly when Dylan had gotten a bit tipsy at a party and Claire was still nursing her first beer and the redhead had confessed how _I'm scared that I'll become so obese, I won't be able to move or dance._

"Stop it, Dyl, you're not either. You're gorgeous," Massie snapped as she strutted out of the closet. She was in sandals that laced up to her knee, her hair pulled back in a full braid. It was always impressive how she managed to makeover herself in such little time, do the smallest things to upgrade her appearance that much more.

Dylan opened her mouth to protest, but was silenced by Massie's piercing look.

"Are the rest of you ready?" Her voice was crisp. The underlying command was obvious: if you weren't ready then _get ready_. The girls were all familiar with the brisk efficiency of Massie Block and Alicia stood up, swinging her messy braid over her shoulder. Kristen stretched out her calves and Dylan slid on a Tiffany bangle.

Alicia grinned, confident and easy. "We're ready."

Massie gave Claire a look that she realized meant _are you ready too?_ Claire nodded at her, gripping her camera bag tight.

They looked absolutely stunning and through Massie's bay windows, she could see the setting sun painting the sky a myriad of colors. Sunset gold, rose pink, fiery orange. It was a stunning sight and Claire let the other brush past her first, still looking at the window. She risked a glance behind her as she left, assured that she would be able to photograph stunning people in front of a stunning background.

* * *

 _Author's Note: I'm sorry this took me such a long time to get up but I do have some of the next chapter ready! Thanks to all the people who have been reading!_

 _(Review make me very happy.)_


	4. Three

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Clique or anything about it. Those rights belong to Lisi Harrison.**

* * *

 **ACADEMY OF WESTCHESTER COUNTY**

 **ROOM 17: PHOTOGRAPHY**

 **Thursday; September 6**

 **2:17 P.M.**

" **OH** my God, Claire, these are amazing!" Alexandra Regan gushed, leaning over Claire's desk where her collection of recently-developed photos were spread. Their photography teacher was making them do a makeshift gallery of all their photos for the first half of the lesson and pe

ople were swarming Claire's desk to look at her work. "The colors are _gorge_."

"Thanks," Claire smiled. She felt pleased by all the praise and made a mental note to do something extra nice for Massie. She glanced down at the photos spread over her desk, her eyes immediately seeking out a portrait of her friend.

Her sunglasses were pushed into her hair, the sun flushing her romper pastel shades, her amber eyes liquid gold and looking past the camera. There was a half-smile tugging on the corner of her lips. Her feet were unconsciously set in first position. One slim arm was crossed loosely over her rib-cage, the elbow of her other arm resting on top of it with a manicured hand under her chin. Massie looked striking, the shadows shaping her cheekbones, collarbones and jawline. The colors brought light into her eyes. She looked both normal and regal, untouched by anything but the sun.

Livvy Collins leaned over and began talking rapidly to Claire. All Claire could make out, however, was a string of praise words - "beautiful, contrast, shading, gorgeous, stunning, well done, quality." Livvy's eyes were drinking in a picture of Alicia - in boyfriend jeans, Louboutin heels, a wide-brimmed hat and a tight, high-necked top that highlighted her curvy figure - striking a pose of one hip jutted out, body bent forward ever-so-slightly. There was a teasing smile on her face, her hair falling purposefully messy around her symmetrical face.

Claire smiled because the picture was just so Alicia.

"Stunning, Claire. You really captured the beauty of your subjects but why don't you try giving them a bit more _feeling_?" Claire's photography teacher looked at her earnestly and she bit her tongue to stop herself from telling her that the photos were taken with feeling. This was just how her friends always were. Glamorous, striking and trying for perfection.

Instead, she shifted the pictures aside until she found the one she was looking for. It was one her friends didn't even know she took but it was, by far, Claire's favorite.

Gathered by the wall of Massie's barn, everything flushed gold by the sunset, the girls stood. The order was Alicia and Massie, arms linked, shoulders brushing, braids matching, then Kristen and Dylan. Kristen and Massie were holding hands and Kristen and Dylan had arms thrown over each other. They all leaned in towards each other. Dylan was caught mid-laugh, Alicia's smile wide and stunning, Kristen grinning through her cackle and Massie, even, was about to laugh, her mouth twisted up into a bright smile and eyes scrunched.

They didn't know she had taken it. That's what made it so special - it was completely authentic. Claire felt a sudden pang in her chest and knew why. She pushed the photo aside, standing from her seat to take a lap around the classroom.

Photography had been her and Cam's thing. They had taken photography classes together at the Westchester Community Center and spent afternoons at beautiful locations in town, taking shots of the scenery and each other. They'd develop the photos and spread them out on one of their beds, choosing their favorites to hang up. Claire had a photography corkboard, the corkboard was Massie's old one and a gift, but Massie had a string of Polaroids in her room. Claire ached at the thought of her Polaroid camera, now dusty with disuse, that had been a gift from Cam.

"Class," the teacher called, her voice carrying and sweet. "Class, please take a seat. We only have a few minutes left and I'd like to tell you about what you're going to be doing next class. No, Rosalinda, there won't be any homework for today..."

* * *

 **ACADEMY OF WESTCHESTER COUNTY**

 **DINING HALL**

 **Friday; September 7**

 **12:09 P.M.**

 _Where was everyone?_ Dylan wondered as she looked around the Dining Hall. It may have been full of trim, coiffed people but they weren't her trim, coiffed friends. The majority of them were classless posers who lived for stupid, insignificant drama by stalking _Marvilous Marvils_ and her friends social media.

Her spring green eyes narrowed and she tossed her thick, fiery mane. Dylan felt like such an LBR, sitting alone. She wished her friends would hurry up and, well, _appear_ , and she idly poked at her steaming plate of pasta, crisply salted fries, Fiji water and Dorito chips. It looked appetizing, but sitting alone was bad enough - never mind beginning to eat alone. To pass the time, she pulled out her phone, prepared to beat the shit out of her games.

"Where's your posse?" a deep, decidedly not-feminine voice asked and Dylan's head jerked up to meet the eyes of Derrick Harrington. Immediately, the bored frown on her face became true and she slumped down. "What? Don't look so down to see me."

There were a dozen things she could have said to that. How about: _I'm never glad to see a fucking ex,_ _Derrington_. But that wouldn't go over well and Claire was already upset about seeing Cam after a summer, as she always was. Besides, if the press caught wind of that then it'd been a total PR nightmare.

"They're coming," Dylan said instead after an awkward pause. She pulled cranberry sparkling water out of her bag and sipped it, craving caffeine but remembering that she had to begin sticking to her dancer's diet. The fizz going down her throat reminded her of soda. She belched abruptly, loud and full, and everything went dead silent at the tables around her for a moment before she laughed it off.

Who cared? She was Dylan Marvil while they were B-Listing losers. Besides, that was a Grade A Burp. Dylan was impressed with herself.

"Nice, Dylan,"Kemp sniggered, sliding into Kristen's seat. The other guys were snickering as they sat down and Dylan raised her eyebrows.

"Thanks," she quipped. "Why are you sitting here?"

Derrick shrugged. "Empty seats. Free country. Why not?"

Dylan looked past him, where Massie was gliding up, strides long and face stony. She knew her friend had caught the last of his words and grinned innocently at him, not bothering to reply.

"Because you're in my seat," Massie said flatly, stopping just behind his chair. Derrick twisted around to look her in the eye, meet the challenge head on, just as he always did with Massie.

"Don't see your name anywhere."

Massie sighed, as if dealing with Derrick was an annoying, wearing task that she couldn't wait to be done with. Dylan knew the feeling. "Derrick, were you invited to my BBQ?"

"No."

"Then why are you all up in my grill?"

Derrick opened his mouth, no doubt to snap back some witty one-liner in return, when Kemp beat him to it. "I'd _love_ to be all up in your grill," he winked and Dylan gagged. She shot a quick look at Kristen - whose glare held the fires of hell that Kemp deserved to burn in.

"Dude," Josh said, looking disgusted. "You're so vulgar. No wonder you haven't been laid in a while." Cam and Claire both looked distinctly uncomfortable with this entire situation. Chris leaned over and gently nudged Kemp, who refused to acknowledge him.

"Aww come on, Joshie."

Dylan rolled her eyes and Kristen huffed irritably.

"Just get out of our seats."

To Dylan's surprise, it was Cam, of all people, who refused. Shaking his head. Looking uncomfortable and uneasy. Dylan glared at him while Derrick leaned over, going shoulder-to-shoulder with Cam, two peas in a pod like Massie and Alicia, Kristen and Dylan, Claire and Layne. "Just drag up chairs," Cam said. "We were here first."

"Actually," Dylan said in indignation. Hello? Was she invisible? " _I_ was here first." She was saving seats for her friends and she'd be absolutely damned if her strenuous wait was for nothing. "Fuck off."

"We're not moving," Derrick countered, crossing his arms.

Josh looked mildly exasperated, taking a sip of his protein shake. "Just find another table. Is that so hard?"

"Why don't you find one, then?" Alicia snapped. Dylan snorted with laughter when she heard a sudden, terrible screechy sound and whipped her head to the side. Claire dragging up a chair. What the hell? What was she doing? Why was she giving in?

'Kuh-Laire," Massie bit out coldly. Her stare was icy and sharp, eyes like pieces of broken gold, and Dylan watched, biting down on more potato chips. She felt a twinge of sympathy for naive Claire.

"I'm hungry," Claire explained meekly, looking longingly at Dylan's tray. _That_ the redhead understood. She held out the chip bag to the blonde, who took a handful eagerly. "I'll just - I'll be back."

Massie sighed silently. Dylan resisted the urge to crack a joke to dissipate the silent tension. Finally, Massie nodded once at Dylan, a _stay_ she obeyed as she stuffed a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

"Excuse me," Massie said, as she did a three-sixty turn, voice sweet and cool at the same time, to a girl at Table 20. The girl was an obvious art nerd in paint-splattered tunic she probably thought she could make work, but didn't, and obviously dyed blonde hair that made Dylan wrinkle her nose. Bad hair was horrifying to her, especially with her own wild, naturally fiery locks that could be worked on for hours. She learned a few things after long, regular visits to the salon and her hair-maintenance routine was her life. "You're not sitting here anymore, okay? Please, go on now, get out of here." Her voice had hardened at the end, enough that the girl scrambled up with her things and shot off to another table, friends scattering too.

"Nice, Mass," Alicia grinned, taking a chair and shoving it in between Dylan and Josh. "Sorry for the wait, Dyl, my mascara looked weird so I had to redo it."

"It's okay," Dylan shrugged. "Buy me some chocolate and we'll call it even."

"Deal." Alicia headed off to get food in her slow saunter, but Dylan noticed Kristen lingered behind, waiting for Massie as the brunette strategically pinched Derrick before heading off.

"Ow, fuck," Derrick swore, rubbing the underside of his arm. Dylan outright laughed in his face.

"You're such a wimp, Derrick," Dylan scoffed. "Honestly. You can get hit with a soccer ball to the nuts but you can't handle getting pinched?" She raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes, taking in another forkful of baked ziti.

"Her nails are sharp," he growled, shoving a smiling Cam lightly and glaring at a laughing Josh and Kemp. "Shut up."

"It's no worse than any other injuries you've had," Chris told him unsympathetically, rolling his eyes exasperatedly and smiling at Dylan warmly. Dylan grinned back. Chris was the only guy she'd bothered to continue being friends with after their group had fallen out. She was still friendly with Josh, but she still hung out with Chris pretty regularly.

At that moment, Claire chose to come back, balancing her tray and handing Dylan a bag of M&M's. "Sorry for making you wait," Claire said, smiling apologetically and Dylan raised an eyebrow and waved her off. They'd done much worse to her and, really, it wasn't that big of a deal.

"Well," she said. "Now that you brought me chocolate I _guess_ it's alright..."

They shared twin grins. Dylan missed the days when their dancer's diet wasn't as strict and they could pig out on ice cream, baked goods, chocolate and gummies together. Massie, swooping in surprisingly fast with a plate of DIY salad she'd made, gave Dylan a raised eyebrow as if she could read her thoughts.

Dylan stopped mid-chew of her pasta to stick her tongue out at her. The guys laughed, making impressed grossed out sounds, while Massie clicked her tongue against her teeth and poorly hid a smile, her eyes sparkling. That meant she wanted Dylan to know she was amused.

Dylan grinned.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _I'm so sorry for the delay! This chapter is shorter than usual by about a thousand words, unfortunately, but I wanted to get it up as soon as I could. **Thank you all the lovely reviewers!** Your reviews made my day, they were so sweet! I've been updating around every two weeks but I want to begin updating every week so I'll try and get the next chapter up in a week! _

_To diana: the lyric at the top of Chapter 2 was from Taylor Swift's song "Shake It Off." And here's a scene with the boys for you!_

 _Reviews are to me what chocolate is to Dylan._


	5. Four

**Disclaimer: Lisi Harrison owns the Clique, not me.**

* * *

 **WESTCHESTER DANCE STUDIO**

 **FEMALE CHANGING ROOMS**

 **Saturday; September 15**

 **7:52 P.M.**

"That felt _good_ ," Alicia hummed, stretching luxuriously as she tugged on her PINK yoga pants. "I missed this."

Dylan snorted. "You literally had your contemporary class yesterday, Leesh."

"I meant dancing with A-List," she snapped and Kristen cackled as she braided her damp hair in the mirror, fogged by steam. Kristen's hair looked darker, like spun gold when wet while Claire's platinum blonde hair just looked more pale blonde than white-blonde. Alicia thought they were both gorgeous and probably more manageable than her and Dylan's damp, wild curls. "It seems like such a long time since we danced together."

"That happened on Wednesday," Massie deadpanned dryly and Alicia rolled her eyes at her. Massie half-smirked. "You were there. Are you sure you're feeling okay, Leesh? Need to get a doctor's appointment?"

"That wasn't what I meant!" Alicia groaned. Kristen let out another cackle and she whipped her towel at the blonde's back. "Gawd. You owe me a smoothie."

"You were the one that hit me," Kristen countered, rolling her eyes. " _You_ should owe _me_ a smoothie."

"Girls, girls, you're both ugly," Massie deadpanned. Kristen glared and this time, Alicia snapped her towel at Massie. The brunette let her, cleaning the spray of water from the damp cloth off her face with her own towel. She was smirking and Alicia grinned back. "We'll be attending the party tonight, by the way, so be ready in half an hour."

Alicia froze as she stuffed her towel into her duffel. "Are you serious?"

"No, I'm fucking with you. We'll actually be flying to Paris to party there." Massie calmly smoothed her street leotard before yanking on Nike shorts.

Alicia looked down at her own outfit: leggings, a crop top and ballet flats. "Preferable," she snapped. They were all make-up less and had just finished with practice. They could nawt go to a party like this.

"Who's party? Derrick's?" Dylan demanded. Alicia noticed Claire looking distinctly uncomfortable, blonde head air-drying and chipped nails tugging at her cute frayed denim shorts. Where was her spine? Did she lose that along with her tongue? Alicia thought irritably, then immediately regretted it. It wasn't Claire's fault they were under-prepared for a party.

Massie hitched a brow and when she spoke, her voice was as silky and soft as usually, only a thread of annoyance woven through. "Yes. It's Harrington's party. It's at his house and you know how his parties are. We don't need to dress at our best, but we do need to be there. Don't do any dramatic make-up, it will look like you're trying too hard." Then she sighed, as if this explanation should have been known to them already. Massie didn't sigh often. Alicia felt almost as if they had disappointed her and then resisted the urge to fold her arms and pout like a child. She hadn't realized Massie had been talking about Derrick's party, was that so hard to clarify?

Massie caught her eye and held her angry gaze, the emotion she was trying to repress. "Look, there's no other parties tonight. I thought you knew. You don't have enough time to look flawless, so throw on some make-up and let's go, okay? I'll buy you Starbucks." A half-smile twitched Massie's lips, Alicia smiled and Kristen let out a snort.

"Okay," Dylan burped. Claire burst into giggles. Alicia waved her hand in front of her face as if trying to wave away a ratchet smell and scrunched up her face.

"Gross times ten," she said and Dylan stuck out her tongue. Alicia stuck her nose in the air and sniffed haughtily, the humid scent of steam and perfume invading her delicate nostrils.

* * *

Westchester parties varied in style.

If it was an Alicia Rivera party, it was class and elegance, planned at the hands of both Alicia and Massie. Alicia loved a good, wild party but if she wanted that, she'd hit the clubs. Her parties were silk and lace dresses, champagne flutes and red wine, gossip slipping from glossed lips and scandals in the dark corners of the Rivera mansion.

If it was a Massie Block party, it was out of the park. It had artists and performers, Top 40 bands, eclectic designs and huge publicity. It was color and laughter, a show up in front of a packed dance floor with food lining the sides for those who simply wanted to watch and laugh. Her parties were extravagant, a production that only the best got an invitation to.

If it was a Kemp Hurley party, it was a rave. It was neon lights flashing, live hip hop music, fresh air and a cleared out dance floor where it was a battle to show off who had the best dance moves. There was a vast selection of alcohol and it ended up being one of the best or worst nights you'll ever had.

Oddly enough, if it was a Derrick Harrington party, it was chill. Derrick was the Big Man on Campus, but he was more private, like Cam. A Derrick Harrington party could be anything from a giant impromptu soccer game with booze and food to a bunch of people in his home theater, drinking beer, eating popcorn and laughing their asses off. And in the center of it all was Derrick, shoulder to shoulder with a smiling Cam.

* * *

 **HARRINGTON ESTATE**

 **THEATER ROOM**

 **Saturday; September 15**

 **8:13 P.M.**

Kristen settled herself on an empty love seat in Derrick's theater, a bag of low-cal popcorn in one hand and a bottle of mango sparkling water in the other. She balanced the cute, striped little bag between her legs in order to twist the top off her drink and take a refreshing gulp.

The theater was swarming with kids from school and the studio. It's rising levels held couches, love seats, ottomans and the occasional armchair instead of the classic velvet seats like Alicia head. The home-theater was a new addition as the Harrington mansion was ancient, all white and bronze with diamond chandeliers and sleek leather furniture. This little modern slice was pretty of itself - red velvet floors, butter-soft furniture, cute little stands filled with popcorn, candy and drinks that just have been Sammi's idea.

The boys took up the prime spots in the middle cluster. Derrick and Cam on one couch, Derrick sprawled over the length of it, feet on Cam's lap, but he would reach out to offer his friend some popcorn. Chris had armchair that could easily fit two; he was dumping some M&M's into his popcorn bag, an amused smile on his face as he listened to his friends. Josh had a love seat that he was sharing with Alicia - she'd been cursing in Spanish as he passed and the two had been drawn into some discussion about salsa class. Kemp, Kristen noticed, was a bit away from the rest of the guys - not enough that it was really noticeable but just enough so the thirstier girls could crowd around him.

She was not feeling jealous, she told herself. That would be petty and immature. She had no right to be jealous.

Kristen was a level behind them with Massie and Claire. The former had a couch to herself, the latter looking pleased in a squishy armchair. Dylan was leaning against Chris's seat, talking animatedly, so she resigned herself to not having her around for the movie. The rest of the seats on their level were taken up by people they liked - Allie Rose Singer, Bonnie Wright, Jessica Kim.

Kristen resisted the urge to slant another glance Kemp's way and fiddled with the sleeves of her turquoise hoodie-dress anxiously. "Mass," she whispered, leaning towards her friend. "What movie are we watching?"

Massie twisted to look at her, craning her neck. Her wavy hair fell across her neck and shoulders, dark against the pale of her skin and blue of her leotard. Her amber eyes narrowed, lashes fluttering, and Kristen shifted under the sly gaze. "Iron Man," she said, voice bored. "Derrick said he was 'going old school.' He's probably going to do a Marvel marathon."

She sighed and stretched out her legs, pointing her toes. Great. It wasn't like she had a problem with Marvel or action movies, she was just hoping for something sportier to distract her. Preferably 'Bend It Like Beckham' or 'Stick It' - either of those would've done it.

She could be studying now, she reflected, coils of anxiety and unhappiness tangling in the pit of her stomach at the very thought. She'd been studying hard for years, summers, this past week. Her mother could have been become a drill sergeant if she wanted, what with the harsh way she'd set Kristen to her work. In fact, if she went home to study now, her mother would be thrilled.

It was a useless train of thought. She much preferred a Marvel-movie marathon to studying.

"You don't seem to be having fun," a voice muttered beside her ear. "I bet I can make this night a whole lot more enjoyable for you, babe." Kristen tensed. She would know that voice anywhere - on the streets, on the field, in her memories.

In her dreams.

She made a face and pushed away from the voice. "Go away, Kemp," she bit out coldly.

She wasn't sneering and sharp-voices as Alicia, eyes haughty and nose pointed; not wild and raucous with her responses like Dylan, pulling celebrity-rank and shouting sharply; or as cool and unfazed as Massie, with an arsenal of witty burns dancing on the edge of her poison tongue. And she was nowhere near as tentative as Claire, struggling to hide her rage in public and suppressing her fiercer emotions unhealthily.

No, Kristen was biting and cold fury, a simmering rage making her mind spin with statistics, secrets and retorts and she damn well intended to direct that rage at Kemp.

"You look happy to see me," Kemp leered before his face smoothed out into an easy, snarky smile. "What gives with the hostility? You PMS-ing? Actually, gross, don't tell me."

"Even if I was, it wouldn't be any of your business." Kristen debated fishing a tampon out of her Alexander Wang Marti Mini convertible backpack and throwing it at him, just to watch him squirm. She elected not to, as Kemp would probably just begin teasing and laughing at her after he recovered.

Kemp just grinned at her. Kristen wanted to throw a tampon at him. "Ah, so you aren't. That's good - I don't do period sex. Too much blood." He leaned in close, inhaling the scent around her and Kristen fidgeted, trying not to move away. Massie viewed that as a sign of weakness. backing down, and Kristen knew that others would to.

 _Don't be weak. You can't afford it here._

"I don't like the smell of blood," Kemp hummed, his mouth curling into something more seductive. _His lashes were so long_ , Kristen thought absentmindedly, _he must have good genes_. But didn't everyone in Westchester? "I like the smell of _you_ , though. I'm sure I'd like the smell of you down -"

"Kemp!" Kristen hissed, scandalized and snapping out of her daze. Her cheeks flushed, mortified, and she pushed herself away from him. "Notinpublic!" she speed-talked, flustered. There went her debating skills, she thought grouchily.

"What?" He didn't lean back, but his brows did scrunch in confusion. His seductive look faded. Kristen pulled the hem of her hoodie-dress down further, feeling glad for that, since a healthy stretch of her long, lean legs were exposed. Ironically, that was one of the reasons why she'd chosen the outfit that morning. "Is that jumble?"

What? He remembered how much she liked jumble? That was... Surprisingly sweet.

Kristen shook her head. "No, I was saying 'not in public,'" she said, realizing too late her voice was lightened with surprise.

"Why?" Kemp cocked his head, dropping his voice into something deep and rich that made Kristen shiver. "We had fun before. We could have fun now." He slid a hand onto her thigh, warm and large, the callouses rough against her moisturized skin. Kristen held her breath for a moment, controlling herself, then moved away before Kemp's hand could wander up any higher.

The Westchester community had known Kristen and Kemp were a 'thing' last spring. Kristen didn't need rumors about how they were 'getting back together' after they made it clear that whatever they had was a fling.

"No, Kemp," she said. Kemp's leer softened.

"What? I won't do anything you won't consent to. I just thought - we went so well together..." Kemp leaned in even closer over the love seat, bracing his toned arms on the arms of the seat, crowding into her space, eyes questioning and almost concerned. In the background, there was a whoop, the sound of scuffling, cheering and laughing.

Kristen stared at him, eyes wide. He thought they went well together? He totally ditched her during the summer! She was at the almost-girlfriend status, in an unofficial relationship, ready to become exclusive. Even Massie agreed. Then she went to California and he began distancing himself.

 _He doesn't mean relationship-wise,_ the logical part of Kristen's mind said, _he means sex-wise._

"Go away, Kemp," she said angrily, moving her popcorn bag and drink out of the way so she could scoot farther back. "Just - go."

There was a sharp clearing of throat and Kristen's head snapped around. Her eyes connected with Massie's eyes, two cold gemstones that gleamed in the low light. "Excuse me," Massie said. Her voice was the steel of a knife as it pressed down, just before cutting. Her voice was silk wrapped around the knife handle, smooth and rippling and close to danger. Kristen was so relieved to hear it cut in. "Is there any trouble here?"

She didn't need to say anything further. Kemp narrowed his eyes at her, but he was no match for Massie one-on-one and especially not with Kristen giving him her best death-glare and Claire, stiff and narrow-eyed, looking at him suspiciously around Massie's shoulder.

"Nope," he replied, popping the 'p.' "Fuck off, Massie, it's none of your business."

"If you're harassing my friend, I should think it is my business. Seeing as you don't have any good friends, would you like me to show you what one does?" It was a mouthful, so unlike Massie's usual crisp, cutting insults. Kemp blinked, clearly thrown off, but Kristen knew the reason why Massie was doing it. To let Kristen compose herself, prepare herself to ice Kemp out.

"It's defending another friend," Claire added, shifting in her seat but shoving her chin up in defiance when Kemp met her eyes. Kristen felt surprise, then warmth, bloom in her stomach.

Massie gave him a disinterested look, done with the conversation. She turned her face away from him as a clear dismissal. "Get lost, Hurley, before your master comes looking for you."

Kemp glared at her, but rolled his eyes and turned to slink away. He couldn't win this battle and he knew it. Kemp met eyes with Kristen, giving her a look she couldn't decipher as she scowled at him.

Massie hitched an eyebrow when she looked at her, making Kristen tug at her sleeves again. "You're lucky," was all she said.

"Are you okay?" Claire asked, voice full of concern. Kristen gave her a tight smile, Claire having been nothing but nice since she'd known her and not worthy of her wrath.

"Fine."

* * *

 **BLOCK ESTATE**

 **AT-HOME DANCE STUDIO**

 **Tuesday; September 18**

 **7:45 P.M.**

 _Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight..._

"Massie?" Kendra called, opening the studio door. "Derrick's here to talk to you about dance."

She should have locked the door, Massie reflected as her concentration on her fouetté turns was lost. She let herself spin into pirouettes before coming to a complete stop in front of her mother, annoyed.

"Send him in," she told her, touching her bun lightly to make sure it was still in place. (It was.) She resisted the urge to add 'the twat' on the end of the sentence. British insults were so much better than American ones. They sounded more mocking and confused the receiver more often than not, which pleased Massie to no end. "Please," she added.

"Sure thing, honey," Kendra smiled and closed the door as she left. Massie shook her head and smiled exasperatedly. Ever since England, Kendra had been trying to be more of a motherly figure to her - alerting her personally instead of sending Inez, dropping by Massie's door before Kendra went to bed, doing little 'mother-daughter bonding' activities like closet-cleaning and morning Pilates and yoga.

However, there was business to do and little time to think about her mother's new, sometimes sweet if endearing, habits.

Massie had only just set her shoes aside when Derrick came strolling in. No one was with him - it irked her that he had been to her house often enough to know where her studio was by heart. He cocked a brow at her, folding her arms. Massie straightened and threw her shoulders back, settling her feet into her power position.

"Harrington," she said coldly. "What do you want?"

Derrick rolled his eyes. "Drop the cold act, Block, can't we act mature?"

"Says the boy who used to wiggle his butt at every given chance."

He grinned. "That was funny, wasn't it?"

Massie refused to crack. "Not exactly mature, though." She, personally, had found it endearing if embarrassing but she didn't owe him that explanation. She certainly wasn't going to express her opinion willingly. "What did you want?"

"We have to begin working on more routines for competition season," Derrick replied, his grin tilting into a smirk. Massie found that his cocky cheerfulness grated on her nerves, but no more than usual. "And talking about possible solos, duets and trios. And talking about what we're going to do for the Fall Showcase. It happens in less than a month."

He had no right to sound disapproving, considering Massie was basically running the practices. She made herself impassive and cursed herself for not approaching him earlier.

"Okay, fine," she said. "I was actually going to talk to you about it after practice." Derrick gave her a loaded look that clearly told her how dubious he felt. She ignored him. "Let's go to my lounge and talk."

A while ago, William and Kendra had gifted her with the outdated lounge that she could change to her liking. It was on the main floor, very modern and sleek but personalized. Massie would have preferred an office but her parents said she had no real need for one - which was true. The lounge worked fine, though.

"Fine," Derrick shrugged, rolling his eyes a bit at the mention of her lounge. Massie reigned in her irritation and internally smoothed the feathers that always seemed to ruffle around Derrick. "We could just do it here so we can show possible moves to each other."

Massie gave him a flash of her small, sweet smile that meant she was just a tad pissed. "If you paid attention, you would know the technical terms for the 'moves.'"

His eyes narrowed.

She arched a brow and swept past him with her shoes in hand before he could say anything. Getting the last word, even if it meant cutting people off, was a good way to establish yourself as the superior one. Massie would know.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Okay, so, been a while, hasn't it? I'm so sorry for the delay, but I've been working on some other stories. **Thank you so much to the lovely guest reviewers**. I'll be posting updates on my profile about chapter progress from now on, too._

 _Reviews are always lovely. (Unless you're hating. Please don't hate.)_


	6. Five

**Disclaimer: The Clique belongs to Lisi Harrison, not me.**

* * *

 **WESTCHESTER DANCE STUDIO**

 **PRACTICE ROOM**

 **Wednesday; September 19**

 **6:01 P.M.**

 **ALICIA** sauntered into the room, hyped for her first salsa dancing class. She'd learned the samba, tango, waltz and swing dances years ago. Now, the steps automatic once she heard the music. She couldn't wait for some salsa. And, of course, Josh Hotz to be her partner.

She smirked to herself as she went into an unoccupied corner to warm up and survey the room. There was Landon Crane and his gorgeous cousin, Anastasia, who Alicia waved at and who waved back. There was a group of LBRs, doing a set of poor pump turns. Where had they gotten that training from? It made her cringe.

Then there was Josh, leaning against a wall with his curious eyes and red, red lips. Alicia smiled, tossed her hair and waltzed up to him.

"Hola," she hummed, smiling flirtatiously, "what're you doing, all alone?"

Josh didn't miss a beat. "Waiting for a beautiful girl," he said and this was what she liked about him. Derrick wouldn't have hesitated to flirt with a girl that wasn't in her squad but refused to flirt with any girl that was, Cam would've looked uncomfortable, Chris would've been factual and Kemp would have said something filthy. She knew because she'd tested to those exact results.

"May I offer you a dance for that long wait?" Alicia giggled and Josh grinned at her.

"Of course, it would be an honor to dance with you." He swept low into a bow and she tipped her head back. Laughed and felt attention being drawn towards them, the stake of her claim sink in to the bitches of WDS.

The instructor chose that moment to bounce in, a cheerful woman with a mass of glossy, light brown curls and wide hazel eyes. She was dressed head-to-toe in Capezio and a bright slick of red lipgloss and strutted to the front of the room, letting everyone stay scattered around the polished room.

"Hey, everyone," the instructor smiled, gaze sweeping the room. Alicia held her gaze for a moment, lifted her chin and gave her a proud smile. "I'm Maya Santiago and I'll be your salsa instructor for the next few weeks."

* * *

Josh and Alicia sauntered out of the studio together, Josh slowing his pace chivalrously. For all the times he'd rushed ahead of her (okay, maybe she _wasn't_ totally over the seventh-grade Valentine's Day thing), he could be sweet and slow down to her pace too.

"That was really fun," Josh smiled, slinging an Adidas gym bag over his shoulder. Alicia smiled back, feeling companionable and at ease. Maybe it was because Josh's gaze had flickered to her chest once or twice and that was only when she stretched, bringing attention to her figure. Otherwise, he had looked her in the eye and challenged her quick learning pace with his own. "Maya's a great teacher. Almost as good as Coach."

Maya wasn't as good as his _soccer coach_? Alicia's brow furrowed and she fought to keep it smooth. "Well, you know," she said noncommittally, shrugging. She wasn't in the mood for more than light banter. "Different sports."

Josh considered this, then nodded with a smile, rolling his shoulders and Alicia watched the muscle beneath his t-shirt ripple. "Yeah, that's pretty true. Juggling soccer and dance suck, though. I pretty much had to rush here from practice."

"Why did you join both?" Alicia blurted and then leaned forward a tad, trying to look more invested to make up for her slip. "I mean, I get that you're really good at both but if it's such a struggle..."

He shook his head and grinned loosely. "I like both. I couldn't choose between them. Chris has it harder than me, he's got a lot of AP schoolwork."

Alicia nodded sagely. She was surprised to find she rather understood his situation. "Kristen has that too. She's got soccer, dance and schoolwork and it drives us all up the wall."

"Payback for speaking Spanish around them all the time," Josh laughed. "That's what the guys tell me." He looked gorgeous in the flattering lighting of the hall - glossy hair, darkly tanned skin, red lips that reminded her of her MAC lipstick. She smiled a bit wider, leaned in a bit closer, the scent of Ralph Lauren's POLO clinging to his gorgeous biceps.

"Oh, totally," she agreed, even though she didn't know that much Spanish. But she _had_ picked up a few things from summers spent in Spain and, with the last two years of traveling, Brazil and Argentina. "One of my favorite phrases is ' _Llámame y nos encontraremos pronto._ ''

 _Call me and we'll meet soon._

Josh's eyebrows raised but he grinned and went with it. " _¿Cómo se podría rechazar una bella dama?_ "

 _How could I refuse a beautiful lady?_

"Is that a _sí_?" Alicia teased. She titled her head to let her perfect curls undulate over her neck and shoulder, tucking a strand behind the shell of her ear. She licked her lips and watched Josh's eyes drop for a split second before meeting her gaze.

His grin was bright and white, something she'd seen him use at parties on girls almost as pretty as she was. " _Sí_ ," he said. Outside, a car honked and Alicia startled, Josh taking a quick step away. Alicia recognized the Blocks latest Range Rover model and stepped back, smiling.

"See you later," Alicia said as Josh walked her into the parking lot.

Josh winked, walking towards an Alfa Romeo 4C, which she only knew because a car discussion at Derrick's party had lasted a solid half hour, and told her, "Hopefully soon."

Alicia grinned and let her hips sway as she strutted away. In the Range Rover, Massie gave her a supremely unimpressed look.

"We'll discuss this later," Massie said frigidly and Alicia pursed her lips.

"It's just Josh," she said. "He's cute."

Massie gave her a piercing look. "Kemp and Cam."

Oh, _shit_. She'd forgotten about those arguments.

* * *

 **ACADEMY OF WESTCHESTER COUNTY**

 **ROOM 17: PHOTOGRAPHY**

 **Thursday; September 20**

 **12:15 P.M.**

 **CLAIRE'S** ears were ringing. She'd felt a bit uneasy ever since Alicia had announced she wanted to get to know Josh better - meaning she'd usually go one-on-one with him but it was clear that the announcement had Massie written all over it. It was a warning: be prepared for group hangouts.

Now, with the announcement that the two first semester Digital Photography classes were going to be doing a joint project, she felt even more miserable.

To top it off, her partner was Cam. They would be working inside of school individually editing and producing and outside of school photographing to create a portfolio representing the bond and personality of both of them.

"Hi," Cam said, shuffling his feet as he approached her. He looked flighty, uneasy. Good Claire thought meanly, he should feel how I feel. "Um."

For a few precious moments, Claire's words caught in her throat, didn't make it to her lips. All she could do was stare at this familiar boy: his charcoal curls, blue eye, green eye, pink lips, amiably shy look. Then she remembered he had broken up with her, their friendship groups torn apart, her heart broken.

"Hi," she said, as coolly as she could manage. Her time with Massie was well-spent, it seemed, as Cam was looking even more off-kilter now.

It sparked some mean satisfaction in her, but also made her feel guilty. This was Cam, after all. Heartbreaker or no, he'd been a sweet, attentive guy who had tried his best to get along with her friends and gave her little gifts that never failed to make her smile. He had cross-dressed and snuck into her cabin during their field trip to Lake Placid; he'd made her CD mixes; he'd given her countless bags of candy and swooped in to her social rescue and put up with his friends jeers.

"So," Claire continued, a bit gentler this time. Cam was resembling a sort of kicked puppy. "Where do you think we should begin our project? I mean, obviously, there's a lot of history between us and stuff -" And she shut up because she was running her mouth. It was a nervous tic, one that Massie, herself nor New York had ever white drilled out of her.

Cam looked uncomfortable, staring down at his Nike sneakers. "Maybe the dance studio? Since we both dance, it's pretty neutral territory." Where we can put everything about us aside, went unsaid.

Claire felt a pang she resolutely ignored.

"Sure," she said and sucked in a deep breath to forge onwards. "I, how about OCD? Because it turned into BOCD and we got closer during the time. Or the soccer field," she added hurriedly as a backup after Cam didn't look at her. Her heart twisted.

Cam nodded, not looking up, still. "Yeah, okay," he said.

An uncomfortable pause.

Claire resisted the urge to bite her nails and flipped her hair instead. It was a good gesture - 'nerovous, bite me' and more 'I'm totally Three C,' meaning 'calm, cool and collected' since the girls were usually too lazy to say that unless they were Kristen. "When do you want to meet? How does tomorrow sound? We can get a good start after A-List practice."

He shifted, rocking his weight back and forth and finally looked her in the eye. "I can't," he said. "I've got plans with Derrick."

 _And that's more important than schoolwork?_ Claire wanted to ask. Then she remembered saying, when they were together and he blew her off to see his friends, _they're more important than me?_

She wasn't his girlfriend anymore, though, or even his friend, really. So she bit her tongue and held her pride. "Whatever," she shrugged, trying to seem nonchalent. "When do you want to begin, then?"

"Sunday?" offered Cam. "I'll text you sometime in the afternoon."

"Why Sunday?"

"We can book the practice room or have time to talk to Mr. Gregory about booking the team practice rooms." He shrugged and Claire blinked. It was a really good idea, not that she expected less. It was just, it was the most he'd really talked to her in a while.

It made something in her stomach knot up at the realization.

"Sure," she managed. "I'll, I'll talk to Kristen about it and ask."

* * *

Claire approached Kristen just after school at their lockers, when she was about to go to soccer practice. "Hey, Kris," she said, attempting to be cool and casual.

Kristen looked up from where she was loading up her bag. "Hey, Claire," she said, voice warm and easy. "Did you need anything? I've got soccer right now." She slung an Adidas sports bag over one toned shoulder to prove her point, bag hitched easily on her other shoulder, snapping closed her locker with deft fingers.

"Yeah, actually," Claire said, trying to sound surprised and amused instead of tired and rejected. "I was wondering if you could talk to your dad about letting me book all the team practice rooms since I have an assignment that requires me to take pictures inside there." She kept her voice as light as she could manage. Kristen furrowed her brow; Claire tried not to hold her breath.

"I could ask," Kristen told her. "No promises, but you'll probably be able to. No reason why not. Look, I've got to go to soccer now, I'll see you later." She breezed past her, and Claire let out a breath she'd ended up holding, relieved with the lack of questions.

* * *

 **THE BLOCK ESTATE**

 **MASSIE'S BEDROOM**

 **Thursday; September 20**

 **8:57 P.M.**

 **HALFWAY** through her homework, Massie took a break.

In middle school, she hadn't given two shits for homework, not even if someone paid her because firstly, that was tacky AF and secondly, she was already wealthy. Her parents were big in the _real_ world, business moguls, and the real world didn't notice a girl's middle school grades. It noticed a middle schooler's trend-setting style - Westchester certainly had, afterall, and her trends had spread like wildfire with the help of things like _Teen Vogue_ and screentime at Merri-Lee's New Year's party.

High school, however, was a totally different thing. There were legendary alphas with cutting tongues and ruthless actions, people she admired and respected. She and the squad had established herself as most popular on the very first day and followed it up with the best looks, talent and grades.

Massie was known for her effortlessness with having perfect style, perfect looks and perfect wit. She was also known for her hard work at equestrian riding, maintaining popularity, organizing events (effortless to the general public, hard work acknowledged by her friends and family). Now, she was aiming for the same public-effortlessness, private-work with school. Yale wasn't easy acceptance and Westchester people found it distasteful to pay people off.

Westchester raised the best for a reason. You didn't pay anyone off, you worked for your perfection and maintained it or else you were a fraud, a fake. Massie Block was not either.

Massie propped herself up against her mountain of goose down pillows, stretching her legs out on her lavender silk sheets. She sent a Snapchat of that out, black yoga pant-covered legs, pale pink-polished toes pointed, against a backdrop of pale silk. She then thumbed through her Instagram feed, revelling in the Snapchat notifications that constantly pinged at the top of her screen.

That was, until Kuh-Laire sent an incoming Skype call.

"Hey," Massie said, holding the phone away from her face. Massie's second-day curls were looking loose and pretty, her makeup only a slick of red lipstick, but she thought she looked pretty put-together and okay. Claire had seen her in worse, anyway, so she no longer really cared. "What's up?"

Claire, on the other hand, looked in need of some serious spa-time. Her hair was mussed and her mascara smudged off her lashes. When she raised her hand to wave meekly, her Essie-painted nails were bitten. Gross. "Hey, Mass, I was, um, just wondering if we could talk for a sec."

"Sure." Massie chose not to mention the fact that Claire could've easily driven over - or, in her case, biked, since she was so set on 'helping the environment.' She did let Claire choose to continue the conversation her own way.

If Claire wasn't coming to her the easy way, she was going to have to suffer the hard way. They had rules about revealing big news - as in, telling the squad in person instead of through text. Judging by Claire's nail-biting, which she hadn't done in months since Massie condoned it and dragged her to the spa every time she'd done so for a month, Claire had big news.

"Okay, well," Claire began, fidgeting. She was seated at her desk, slouched over in her chair, the one with all her sweaters piled up on the back that drove Massie crazy. Claire bit her thumbnail and Massie's patience thinned.

"Yes?" she snapped on impulse, then immediately chided herself for loss of control. She'd been getting better at the whole control thing, the being-nice-instead-of-using-snark at them thing. She inhaled the familiar scent of Chanel perfume deeply. Claire looked caged.

"Okay. So."

 _Mon Dieu._ While Massie loved her lovely French phrases (she was planning to learn Italian for Milan fashion week), she was annoyed she was wasting her precious time and French on Claire's stuttering. Even if she was lowkey pleased she'd picked up on French so quickly, of course.

"Spit it out, Kuh-Laire," Massie snapped.

"Cam and I are working on a project for photography and I thought I was over him and maybe I am, but. He just, he looked so uncomfortable around me, I still don't know what went wrong, it feels weird," Claire blurted. Then she stopped, falling silently as abruptly as she'd worked into a frenzy.

Massie blinked at her and blessed her own mental reflexes. She should get paid for this shit. Maybe she should set up a psychology hour at AWC for the overwhelmed, troubled girls there. The shrink was so bland and unpolished - it was a wonder she handled any of the students at school.

"Are you serious?"

Claire bit her nails. "Yeah."

She inhaled deeply. "Look. You know I can't do anything - Cam's in your photography class, not mine." Claire looked like she wanted to butt in with one of her annoying comments - probably something like 'but you don't take photography.' Massie levelled a glare at her and she closed her mouth. "As I was saying, I can't do anything. Just be professional. Pretend he's some exchange student you've never met. Chill out, you've been broken up for years, and after this you can go back to avoiding him, 'kay?"

"But -"

"Butts are for showing off in cute pants and skirts," she interrupted.

Claire smiled weakly. "They're also for pooping."

"Gross," Massie said, wrinkling her nose and arching a brow.

She laughed. "Sorry, sorry. Um, thanks, Mass. For -"

"I know what you're thanking me for, I wasn't born a second ago. You're welcome, of course," Massie told her, smiling smugly. She subtly flicked her eyes around her room, as if just scanning it casually, but her eyes lingered a split second longer on the clock to check the time. She _should_ continue her homework. "To actually thank me, you can do homework with me. It's boring alone, isn't it?" She smiled grandly, as if she doing Claire a huge favor, doing work with her. She _was_ , of course, saving her from being an antisocial art hermit who wallowed unattractively and boringly in her woes.

On the screen, Claire smiled back and nodded, shrugged. "Sure."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _It's been such a long time since I've updated this story and I'm so sorry. I've been very busy but I promise to try and get back on the updating game!_ Thank you so much to all the lovely reviewers, you guys are so sweet. _This chapter admittedly fought be a lot, especially in the perspectives of Claire and Alicia. The reviews spurred me on, encouraged me to continue. There will be more couples drama coming soon, I'm thinking some Massie/Derrick? How does that sound? Thanks for reading this and hope you enjoyed it!_

 _P.S. Reviews make me happy._


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